


Broken

by Hayleekins



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Infertility, Minor Angst, self deprication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 14:25:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11015226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hayleekins/pseuds/Hayleekins
Summary: Alya receives some bad news that shakes her more than anticipated. Sometimes you just need to lay your head in your girlfriends lap and be sad for a while.





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for Alyanette April but I chickened out on posting it. This isn't an experience that I've had first hand, but two close friends found went through this a while back. No idea what inspired this really, but it's been sitting in my drafts and I just need to post it!  
> Please let me know if you think this wasn't handled properly, or if anything seems insensitive!!!

Today was supposed to be a normal day. Today was supposed to be spent with her girlfriend at the park, eating an ice cream cone and talking about their plans for the weekend. Today was supposed to be a nice day where they could distract themselves from their responsibilities for a little while. All she had to go through was a minor doctor’s appointment and then she had the rest of the day to laze around and enjoy the company of her loving girlfriend. But that wasn’t going to happen. Because today wasn’t a normal day.

Today was the day that Alya Césaire found out she could never have kids.

The doctor had explained it all in clear terms, tried to explain it in a way that Alya would understand. She’s sure she would have understood what the nice woman was saying if she wasn’t completely numb. She couldn’t have children. Ever. Alya was glad her mother was there to listen to what the doctor said, or else Alya may have convinced herself she imagined it. But her mother’s supportive words and constant glances filled with concern cemented her reality. She was never going to be able to have kids.

Was it really the end of the world? Was it the worst thing that could have happened? Alya doesn’t know, and she hates not knowing. She hates the feeling of uncertainty. She hates the feeling of emptiness. Before today she wasn’t even sure if she wanted kids. Maybe in the distant future, after she already had a budding journalism career and was _ready_ for kids. Maybe she’d want them then. It didn’t matter now though. She would never be able to have any.

She didn’t know why it bothered her so much. It’s not like she had been planning her life around kids. It’s not like she found out in the midst of trying for a baby and receiving disappointment instead. So why did it leave her feeling cold and numb? The same question repeated in her head for the duration of the ride home, and it wasn’t until she was alone, sitting on her couch that she finally came up with an answer.

_It’s because I have no choice_ , Alya thought, staring at the cooling cup of tea her mother had brought to her a while ago. _I’ve had the choice ripped away from me_. That had to be it. Alya was a woman who liked to be in control. She had decided a long time ago that she was going to be the one who determined what happened with her life, fate be damned. No one, not even the universe, could tell her what she could or couldn’t do. That was the way Alya lived her life, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Until cruel, cruel reality came back to bite her. She wasn’t in control of everything. Because she couldn’t have kids. She’d never be able to carry a child inside of her, never have that bond that everyone says develops between a mother and a fetus. Her mom used to always talk about that bond. How she had felt so intimately connected with each one of her children. It used to freak Alya out, but now that the chance was ripped away, she found she longed for that kind of connection.

Alya glanced up as her mother came to stand in the doorway. She was looking at her eldest daughter with concern etched in her face. Alya wanted to say something. She wanted to apologize. Her mother had always wanted grandkids. She herself had four children, and would have more if she could. She didn’t say it, but Alya knew her mother was hoping for grandbabies. She could see it in the disappointment when Alya first introduced her mother to her girlfriend. Of course, Mrs. Césaire loved her daughter regardless of her sexuality, and has basically adopted Alya’s girlfriend into their family, Alya could tell her mother was disappointed. But there were still ways of making babies when you’re a lesbian. Unless you can’t have kids.

Alya opened her mouth to say something. To apologize to her mother for not being able to have kids. To reassure her mother that she didn’t want kids anyways. To lie and say that she was fine and her mom didn’t have to worry about her anymore.

“It’s not fair,” She said instead. She felt like she could cry, but her eyes remained dry. Her body was too numb to do anything. Her body really was broken.

“Oh honey,” Her mother’s face crumpled, and the woman came to hug her daughter. Mrs. Césaire was not disappointed, as much as Alya thought that now. She didn’t mourn the lost grandchildren. The thought refused to cross her mind. Maybe she’d think on it later, when the wound wasn’t so fresh, maybe then she’d allow herself to think about what would never happen. For now, she had a daughter who needed comforting, and that was all that mattered. Mrs. Césaire hugged her daughter tightly, wrapped the girl up in a large comforter, and cuddled with her until the young girl fell asleep.

When Alya woke up, she wasn’t alone. Her head was lying on someone’s lap, but the hand running through her hair wasn’t her mothers. She turned her head to see her girlfriend petting her, a fond smile on her lips.

“Marinette?” Alya asked, feeling groggy. “When did you get here?”

“Your mom called me,” She said softly, still running her fingers through Alya’s hair. “She told me what happened, thought you might need some cheering up.” Alya waited for the pity, waited for the accusation, waited for whatever Marinette’s reaction might be. It never came. The girls just sat in silence, Marinette alternating between petting her head and rubbing circles on her back. It was nice. Just to sit in silence, as if nothing happened. They’d have to talk about it eventually, but Marinette wouldn’t push. She’d wait for Alya, like always.

“I’m sorry,” Alya said after a long time. Marinette made a questioning sound, but Alya couldn’t look her girlfriend in the eye. “I’m sorry that I can’t have kids. We never talked about it, about our future like that… But it was always a possibility. And now… Well, now it’s not. And I know you’re disappointed, I know everyone’s disappointed because I’m _broken_ ,” She couldn’t continue. Her throat was clogged with emotion and she was afraid if she said anymore then she’d break down and cry right here. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t like to cry.

“Oh Alya,” Marinette said softly. “You aren’t broken. And you definitely aren’t a disappointment. You’re my girlfriend, my beautiful, talented, intelligent, _miraculous_ girlfriend. I could never be disappointed in you.” Alya only sniffed in response. She mulled over what her girlfriend said, but it just didn’t make sense. Of course she was broken. Her body didn’t do the one thing that other women could do. Didn’t that mean something was wrong with her?

“If someone is lactose intolerant, you wouldn’t consider them broken, would you?” Marinette asked softly. “What about diabetics? They’re not broken either now are they?” Alya thought about it. Of course those people weren’t broken. It wasn’t the same. Wasn’t motherhood something that every woman was supposed to do? She voiced those concerns to Marinette, who was quiet for a moment.

“Pregnancy doesn’t define a woman. You aren’t any less of a woman, any less of a _person_ for not being able to have babies. There are a lot of people who can’t have kids for a number of reasons. Not being able to have babies doesn’t make you a bad journalist, does it?”

“No…” Alya mumbled.

“And not being able to have kids doesn’t make you a bad dancer, does it?”

“No,” Alya said again, starting to understand where Marinette was going with this.

“And not being able to have kids doesn’t make you a bad chef, does it?”

“No, I’m a bad chef regardless of if I can have kids of not,” Alya said, attempting to make a joke. Marinette laughed in response, agreeing softly.

“All I’m trying to say is that motherhood is only a small part of womanhood, and it’s definitely not required. A woman who chooses not to have kids isn’t any less of a woman. A woman who _can’t_ have kids isn’t any less of a woman. And you, Alya Césaire, are not any less of a woman. You are my wonderful, talented, amazing girlfriend, and I love you.”

“Why are you such a good girlfriend,” Alya asked, shoving her face deeper into Marinette’s lap. Mari laughed, and continued petting her girlfriends head.

“I’ve learned from the best,” Marinette pointed out, poking Alya in the side. “You’re a pretty good girlfriend too.”

“I still feel crappy,” Alya sighed, rolling over and sitting up. She scooted closer to Marinette, draping her blanket around her girlfriend’s shoulder. “I mean, you’ve helped a lot girl, but I still feel… Empty. And cheated. It’s not fair.”

“I know hon,” Marinette agreed, resting her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “It’s okay to feel crappy about it for a little while. It might take a while. But you’re still _you_ , and you are strong. We’ll get through this.”

“Do you want kids?” Alya asked, resting her head against Marinette’s. They hadn’t ever discussed it in terms of their relationship, but Marinette used to want kids, back when they were still in lycée. Had that changed? What did that mean for them?

“I don’t know,” Marinette said after a minute. “I used to think I wanted kids so bad, I wanted them right away. But life is different than what we expect when we’re younger. If I have a kid now, it’ll be even harder to battle my way through the fashion world. I can’t afford to take time off from my internship to raise a baby right now. Plus I thought that you might want to travel a little bit, write about far off places that you’ve seen firsthand.” Alya’s heart squeezed with affection. Marinette had considered their future, had considered her future and counted Alya as part of it.

“Maybe in a few years we’ll think about kids. And we’ll see how we feel. Maybe we’ll decide we’re ready in a few years and I can carry the pregnancy and we’ll be the cutest, most successful family in Paris. Or maybe we’ll adopt a bunch of kids of various ages and have our own soccer team of Césaire-Dupain-Cheng’s. Or maybe we’ll decide we don’t want any and we’ll get a cat instead.” Marinette snuggled closer to her girlfriend, who was trying to hide the tears in her eyes.

“All I know is that I love you, I love all of you. And I plan on spending the rest of my life with you. Anything else is just extra.”

The girls remained snuggled together for the remainder of the day. Alya was still dealing with the news, was still processing, was still upset about it, but Marinette’s assurances she slowly felt herself healing. Fixing the parts of herself that she thought were broken. If she could stay in the love of her life’s arms all night, just maybe she’d wake up and feel whole again.


End file.
